


This isn't how I planned it

by dear_dori



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Bloody Violence, Did I mention blood and pain?, Gen, Major Character Injury, Pain, Violence, What can I say I just love to see this guy suffer, brofeels maybe, psychologically dubious reasoning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2013-11-22
Packaged: 2018-01-01 16:15:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dear_dori/pseuds/dear_dori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After he went on his rampage in New York and was captured by the Avengers, Loki is supposed to serve his sentence in Asgard's dungeon. He manages to avoid his imprisonment with the help of someone he wished to never see again, and definitely not in the way he would have preferred.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Is a short break too much to ask for

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fan fiction ever! I only know the movies and very very little of the comics. So all of this is mostly movie inspired. I didn't like Loki much in Thor 1 but I had a certain sympathy for him (which you all know he hates). In the Avengers movie I detested him, but in Thor 2 I totally fell in love with him. *SPOILER If you haven't seen the movie yet! * Especially in his "dying" scene. I always loved the book and movie scenes in which attractive male characters are gravely wounded and bleeding and in agony, yeah maybe that's sick, but I know I'm not alone. And watching Loki in pain and regret was just so delicious I couldn't resist to see him suffer a bit (a lot) more.  
> So I read all the Loki whump fics and also I have my own little fantasy which I'd like to share.  
> I've never pubished or written such a thing, so I have no idea if my writing is any good. The plot is just an excuse for doing terrible things to Loki, but I try not to butcher his character. His decisions may seem illogical or suicidal, but he does everything he does because of reasons and also because Loki is Loki.  
> I am not an English native speaker and there will be many mistakes. I think my sentences are sometimes too long. And sometimes I don't know if they are even English.  
> So I will only put up the introduction at first and one, maybe two chapters. Please comment and tell me what you think. If you like it, I will continue the story, if not, it will keep me amused in the privacy of my head.
> 
> ***** None of the characters, places, names, and things are mine *****

The chains' bright rattles were the loudest sounds echoing in the dungeon, drowning out the heavy steps of the men walking him down the stairs. His face looked as indifferent, as intransparent as usual, but behind the pale forehead his head was buzzing with thoughts like a beehive.

Not even yet behind the barriers of a cell, all of his cunning genius was busy laying out his escape plan. That endeavour was facilitated greately by the fact that Odin Allfather in his lordliness had decided to treat his newest prisoner no different than any common criminal. He had not even had the decency of executing him like the traitor and enemy he was. Jailed in the dungeon like any other disgraceful a thief or raider, a minor disturbance to the kingdom, put in a normal cell between other thugs and monsters.

Bitter as the realisation had first hit the son of Laufey when he had recognised where they were bringing him, it had half a second later struck him as invaluable advantage. The king of Asgard would not do his captured the courtesy of locking him in a special chamber of the vault, where he kept secure all those artifacts of great magic power that were currently of no use to him but nonetheless arefully kept in his possession: because they were of value, or threat.

That the prisoner had lost every value he had once been to Odin, that the king had proven. But it was one tiny little honey drop of satisfaction to know that he was still considered enough of a threat to be brought down into his cell by six guards _and_ a prince.  
Which, on the other hand, presented quite of a drawback to his plans for the evening which he intended on spending somewhere not in this cave under the palace. Without Mjölnir, and the menacing presence of the man whose love's planet he had attacked, pressing a few inches too close into his personal space for Loki's taste, he would already have brought down the half dozen einherjar even without his magic, making use of the heavy cuffs and chains they had kindly armed him with. Then he would slip up a corridor with the invisibilty and inaudibility of cat - a capability of his he had never bothered to explain to anyone as being, in fact, not related to any use of sorcery.

  
He took the last step of the stair and was hustled further along the broad dungeon hallway without delay, needlessly pushed by the guard behind him. The prisoner did not take noticable offence. His considerations were falling into place, leaving Loki to the conclusion that the best course of action fot the moment would be to comply, and to patiently wait until he was left alone in a cell where he could work out further steps. Where he could watch, and, more importantly, think without not only his magic but also his very fucking _mind_ beeing annoyingly violated by a never-ceasing screech in the back of his head ...

The dwarf-made shackles around his wrists sent a force like a faint humming through his body, making it impossible for the sorcerer to gather and form the flow of magic in him. This somehow also made it difficult to think clearly, on account of the conflicting powers creating some sort of a resonant effect in his skull. Like a tinnitus he couldn't fade out.

Surely they would take the cuffs off him once the prisoner was securely placed in a cell? Behind a forcefield made to withstand brute force as well as magic, strong enough to hold creatures of barbarian heritage and also witchcraft-wielding miscreants, which coincidentally both applied to the Jotun sorcerer that Odin obviously intended to treat as noone special.  
That at least was was Loki hoped his capturer was arrogant enough to do.

Within hours, the master of mischief was convinced, he would get one the idiot guards to believe there is a reason to step into the cell, momentarily let down the barrier, and have the former prisoner politely thank him for his release. Getting out of the dungeon would be no problem provided he was quicker than the raven that would be on his flight from the all-seeing Heimdall to Odin in the instant that Loki's feet no longer touched the floor of his cell.

The problematic part of his plan would come as soon as he left the walls of Asgard. Odin's warriors could chase him only until he jumped off the branches of Yggdrasil and entered the worlds he knew lay behind. But those worlds, and this was something troubling Loki far deeper than just in his thinking, would not grant him safety from what he really had to run from. And it would less be a question of how fast he could run, but more one of where he could hide for just a minute to rest.  
He dragged himself away from the disturbing concern. It was something to worry about later.

  
To the sound of the heavy dungeon gates closing behind them, the ruffian of a guard who had shoved him down the hall brought the captured to a sudden halt with a pull on the chain connected to the neck ring. Loki hid his choked cough with a clearing of his throat while regaining his balance.  
To his right was an empty cell, force-field deactivated to let the guest in.

"In there," came the order.

The prisoner did not move.

"Now!" The command was emphasised by a poke from behind with some pointy end.

"Please." The word came flatly from an unmoving Loki.

"What is it?" rumbled the voice of the unnerved god of thunder.

"In there, _please_ ," the Silvertongue corrected the guard's bad-mannered request.

An angered reply as well as another poke in his back went almost unnoticed by the recipient due to the fact that he suddenly felt an oh-so-familiar tingle washing through the air and all solid things including Loki's spine.

He instantly froze, eyes narrowed in disbelief.

The other men must have felt it too, but would not know what caused the sensation. Startled by the alarmed gaze of their prisoner who had thrown his head to the side where he knew the source of the ripple, they took a readied stance. His ears still noticed the lifting of weapons, although his attention for the stirring behind him was almost toppled by the horror of seeing a black rip open only yards before him in the near wall. But not in the wall as it were - it was the fabric of space itself opening, and Loki knew exactly what was to come through.

 _Too soon ..._ Forcing down a panic he took the length of a thought to consider his options.

A long and wide hallway with no side corridors he could see from here.

The closed dungeon gates, six guards and Thor behind him, before him an unknown way which may probably be a dead end and would very soon be filling with unpleasant company.

He heard a swirling sound and his tongue recognised a faint metallic taste growing noticable, the process of Mjölnir the lightning hammer gathering momentum and charge. The pressure of several distinct pointy bits in his back proved that he was right about what he expected from fools: they were aiming their weapons at the wrong target.

He closed his eyes for a second and let his breath out.


	2. Happy to see me?

It wasn't even a minute into the fight that Loki realised his mistake.

He should not have thrown himself so the side, away from the guards and his brother. The measure had presented itself as a smart idea at that moment, considering the idiots would probably have stabbed him with their pikes thinking that the intrusion was the prisoner's doing, a part of an escape attempt, and that the creatures entering the dungeon through what looked like some kind of magic door were actually here to _help him_.

In hindsight, being impaled by several feet of Asgardian steel may have been preferrable to that what the currently restrained sorcerer was about to get himself into.

 

Bolts of energy had swiftly knocked down half of the einherjar who were utterly unprepared for such attacks. And that was even before the all of the Chitauri soldiers had entered. Loki had not had the opportunity for an exact count, but they roughly amounted to two dozen. A few dungeon guards came running up the hallway as soon as the first fighting was heard, failing to greatly improve the odds. Less than ten defenders with polearms and swords against more than twice their number of unfamiliar attackers armed with energy weapons, and claws, and teeth. Without Thor on their side, the men - prison guards, not warriors - wouldn't even have brought a single attacker down. Even the thunder god with his hammer capable of taking out a whole row of enemies at once could not dominate a battle in a confined space where he was closely surrounded by big raging, snarling _things_ jumping at him from every direction.

The still standing guards and Thor were effectively held at bay, and Loki was on his own.

Out of ways to run, his first instinct had been to hide. The dungeon hallway was well-lit and didn't provide dark nishes to hide in, so he pressed flat against the wall on the opposite side of the hall, trying to control his agitated breaths, to will the panic down.

He ventured a gaze toward the portal. It had stopped expanding, now being several armlengths wide and high. No more soldiers were coming through, but there was another, larger figure looming in the abyssal dark of the region connected to this room by the portal.

The trickster had already sensed he was out of luck from the moment he had noticed the subtle omen of the portal about to appear, but now he felt his heart sink nonetheless. An energy bolt singed the stone next to his face. It wasn't aimed at him, the Citauri were engaged with Thor and the guards, battling over the room in front of the still widening portal. Loki pulled himself together and started to shuffle sidewards, trying not to draw attention, though he stood out against the evenly illuminated walls like a sharp shadow. He could try to sneak towards the stairs, hoping that the fighting mass of guards and Chitauri between him and the portal would conceil his slim form long enough. Long enough for someone upstairs to hear the turmoil, to send in backups, and to open the damned gates.

He dodged another misfired energy blast and scurried toward the dungeon entrace, praying for the gates to open. They still didn't move.

Were there no other guards in the hall above, or were they deaf? The master of masquerades could still set his hope on Heimdall, whose skills he had uncounted times challenged, but it could be minutes before the Gjallarhorn had called everyone to arms.

At the moment, Loki was trapped ... and now, he had been spotted.

 

One of the beasts had turned on him with in a tackle, and the god of deceit was using this one as his shield against the energy bolts shot at him. But there was only so much that could be done with one set of chains and shackles, especially when another three hundredweights worth of clawed monstrosity jumped on his back.

When he had recollected his senses of vision and direction, he was looking at Thanos' boots.

A kick in his face hurt, but Loki wasn't mistaken to believe that it wouldn't hurt a lot more in a very immediate future. The force knocked his upper body high enough for the titan to grab him with one hand and haul him upwards by the collarbone, sinking his thumb deep in soft flesh.

Lifted off the floor, the slender sorcerer would have wanted to cry out loud, but the lack of air in his lungs saved him from the disgrace. He only let out a choked squeal through bared teeth, while his eyes avoided those of the undesired acquaintance, instead searching among the Chitauri for a sign of Thor.

 _"He can not help you now,"_ resounded the words in his head.

Had Thanos read the captive's fearful look to the side, or had he used his ... aid to figure what his victim was thinking, Loki knew it not.

_"You are all mine."_

And wasn't it a stupid waste of time to worry about an enemy who once claimed to be his brother? There really wasn't any hope that Loki could expect Thor to come to his aid, and even then it would not mean rescue. Loki had problems far more pressing.

He finally found some hold with his twitching feet, it lightened enough weight from his ripped-open shoulder to relieve some of the pain, giving him the nerve to look his capturer defiantly in the eyes.

"Wh-..what do you need ... me for?"  he managed to squeeze over his lips. Dark heavy laughter was the answer.

_"You know that. And if you have forgotten, I shall remind you."_

His torturer's thumb pushing further into between his bones felt like a red hot iron and sent angry beats of pain through his shoulder, numbing his arm. He kept his body's pained snarl of protest muffled behind tightly shut lips and held his breath.

_"Whining like a dog yet? But I have imagined so much more for you."_

Loki replied nothing. Blood was already running from his injured shoulder down his chest, slowly making the tunic he wore wet and warm.

_"But first, you still have something of mine."_

The Liar had narrowed his eyelids so they could withhold the expression of distress, but now he opened them wide. The cube? No, that couldn't be it, Thanos must know that Loki no longer had the artifact.

 _Then_ there was still ... Another glance over to the portal, where the fighting was still continuing, could no longer mask Loki's growing despair. Thor wasn't yet beaten, and more guards seemed to have joined the battle, but also more attackers entered the hall through the tear in space.

Thanos was right, nobody could help Loki now.

 

He was ripped off the floor, lifted up by the one thin bone like by a handle, dragged several steps backwards, and crashed against a wall. It knocked the rest of the wind out of him and made him curse Odin, Thor, the guards, and all the rest of Asgard for shackling him in these magic-binding cuffs and leaving him defenseless. Thanos could swing him around like a doll and even only used one hand for it.

He hadn't even had the time to inhale when something was rammed into his stomach. It felt like being impaled with a tree.

The titan had thrust his other hand claws first into the unprotected god's torso. Loki's back arched violently in shock, exposing his pierced body only more, and he hit the back of his head on the wall. He gasped for air like a goldfish between the shards of his shattered bowl, unable to even wince.

The twisted grin on his torturer's face as he forced his hand further made the powerless sorcerer realise: He had nothing, nothing to protect him, not his magic and not his healing, not his daggers and not his bare hands, not his lies and not even the truth. The only thing he could do was to surrender, because he knew what was about to follow and it would be worse, if he struggled or not.

He let his head sink and saw his blood already blackening the dark purple skin of Thanos' arm. It raised his hope for unconsciousness to soon have mercy on him.

Then a pain he hadn't known a body was able to feel ripped his mind apart.

The raging torment cancelled everything out; it blinded his seeing, overrode his thinking, muted his hearing so he couldn't hear his own scream. The titan's hand clawed its way up his ribcage, shredding his innards like an animal eating him alive.

He screamed until he had no breath left, and wanted to scream again, but his throat shut closed, making it impossible to fill his lungs with air, instead they seemed to be filling with hot molten lava.

Left completely senseless to anything other than the all-occupying agony inside, Loki felt not how his cramping muscles made his head crash violently back against the rough stone, how his lungs threw up black bitter blood into his mouth, how his legs jerked and let his fighting body hang unsupported by his yielding collarbone.

What he did percieve was the very distant, very distressed sounding cry of his own name, and then a sensation of falling.


	3. I think one can die from this

When the portal had suddenly opened and the Chitauri soldiers started pouring into the hall, of course Thor had tought it an attack organised by his brother to free him before he was locked behind the impenetrable barriers of a dungeon cell. Anger roared up to the bitter feeling of betrayal. How could that treacherous snake have his allies attack here, below the very hall of Asgard?

It was worse than even the attack on midgard, because this was what had always been Loki's _home_.

This was where his own family and friends lived, the ones who had always been trying to help and understand him, even after what had happened during Thor's exile. The ones who had mourned his fall from the rainbow brigde. The ones that had not given up up him when he returned to attack the realm of the mortals, the ones who had granted him the clemency of a mild sentence.

And _he_ was putting them in danger. By leading here the vile enemies who had previously destroyed half a human city under his command.

  
Thor sped up the whirling of his hammer swearing that after this attack was beaten off, Loki would pay for this, and pay with his blood. Father had shown him mercy because, so the god of thunder believed, he still regarded his adopted Jötun son as a part of his family. Thor had, too, but the sentiment was now irrevocably quenched by Loki's ultimate sacriledge of endangering all these who had cared for him, with such an obnoxious scheme.

  
Mjölnir flew to sweep a Chitauri off his feet and knock another behind the first down as well, and came back to his wielder's hand. In the meantime he had to punch a third one away, and quickly concluded that he could not have himself exposed without his weapon again, if he didn't want to be pulled down by the sheer number of foes rushing in on him all at once. Thor needed room to fight, narrow spaces were a handicap to his battle tactics. And he could not employ the resources of the endless skies to summon a powerful lightning; deep down in the dungeon below the hall of Asgard, he had to work with what little energy the damp air could provide. Loki truly had picked the perfect time and place for an ambush.

And there was no doubt about the god of mischief being the mastermind behind all this, because who else could have led the enemies of the Nine Realms here in secret? He had done it with the frostgiants, and more had never been found out about the trickster's unseen passageways. And where was that rat? First thing when the portal suddenly opened inmidst the dungeon hallway, Thor had seen the captured troublemaker immediately jump out of harm's way.

  
Seeing several of the einherjar guards fall to the energy bolts shot by the Chitauri weapons within mere seconds, the herculean warrior hastily commanded the rest of the men to stand together and protect at least their backs while they tried to push against the intruders.  
They had to stand their ground in front of the portal, no inch of the room between them and the foreign gateway was to be lost, no, they had to close up on it, and quickly.  Not only to hinder Loki's escape, but also to prevent more of the beast soldiers from getting into this hall, this palace, this realm. If they failed to stop the attack right here, Asgard's throne room, and the chambers of his family lay only a few flights of stairs away ...

  
Crushing the skull of a particularly ugly enemy the thunder god made some room for him to briefly look around, estimating the attackers' numbers. There were about a dozen and a half left, and none seemed to have followed through the still open portal. Good ... Alarmed by the noise of fighting, a group of guards from the far end of the dungeon came running to join their comrades and gained them a little more relief of enemy pressure, so Thor could gain a better view. Where was Loki? Had he already fled? He had not seen the wicked traitor slipping through to the portal, but then again, he hadn't been able to see much of what exactly had happened during the first seconds of the assault. The prince gnashed his teeth in rage as the escapee was nowhere to be seen, when he heard, from the other side of the broad hall, the screaming.  
  
The horrendous sight he caught when he spun around made him yell in shock. An unknown, collosal humanoid of alian skin colour held the captured god of lies against the wall, and his hand stuck _inside_ the smaller man's chest. He was just retracting it, his arm coated in blood all the way over the elbow.

  
The giant-like creature must have heard Thor shouting Loki's name in terror, but he turned his monstrous head for only a second, paying the disturbance no further notice. He looked at his bloodied hand, possibly holding a small object between his dripping fingers, it was hard to make out details in the dreadful mess. But he seemed to be pleased, and a spiteful grin appeared on his misshapen face. He let go of Loki, who instantly sagged to his knees and then fell sidewards. Thor looked past the enemy who was now facing him, and saw his brother, eyes shut, blood tickling from his lips, his face turning a rather pale blue, which scared the thunder warrior cold.  
Having looked Asgardian ever since Father had found him as a baby, it was the only form Loki had ever known, obviously a feature as automatic as breathing, unaffected by sleep or illness. Even now that he was aware of his birth, he seemed to either prefer the Asgardian complexion, or found it tiring to take on his natal form. Thor had seen how the aspect was upheld despite the exhaustion of fighting, and hadn't even failed him when the magic-blocking shackles had clicked around his wrists.  
Thor dared not think about what it meant that Loki lost control over his appearance just now as he was collapsing to the ground with a hole the size of a giant's fist in his torso. He who thirty seconds ago would have personally chopped the rogue's head off, convinced of unforgivable treason, felt the fear for his brother's life threaten to drive him mad. Mjölnir spun in a blur and was released to wreck the menacing stranger's square head, but was deflected by a lifted hand, crashing several inches deep into a wall. The prince roared and took a step towards his difficult opponent, holding his hand out for his weapon.  
  
 _"Do not stand in the way, Aesir."_  
Were they spoken words, or thoughts directly transmitted into his mind?

His hammer was back in his fist, and immediately sent flying again to aim for the titanic foe, only to be again slapped away.

A few centuries, maybe years ago, Thor would then have proceeded to give the approach a third try - a method that he had always found useful especially against larger adversaries who would not go down after one or two blows, but usually after one more with increased force. But in the meantime, the god had been down to midgard as a mortal, and those days had drastically broadened his horizons, including but not limited to recommendable tactics in battles against unproportionally strong enemies.

The warrior suspected it might not prove helpful to have his only weapon of attack _and_ defence buried in stone again while he was approached by an opponent able to divert Mjölnir whithout so much as sliding an inch. Worry and rage did impair his rationality, but the thought of him being beaten down here and the pitiless monstrosity who had impaled his brother with his bare hand walking around his unsuspecting family's chambers, that just scared him senseless.

  
_"I take with me what I came for. Stand down, or die."_

The voice sounded disturbingly clear in the god's head.

Gripping Mjölnirs handle tightly the prince of Asgard readied himself for hand-to-hand-combat. The giant stopped and frowned, but didn't need to repeat his demand, as the blonde warrior was already knocked out of the way, hit in the side by an energy bolt. Thor spun around pressing his left on the scorched spot. He swore heavily at the dishonourable foe and steadied his stance.  
Out of the corner of his eye he caught a strange flicker by his brother and turned his head. Another energy blast was just luckily dodged and forced Thor to direct his attention at those who came at him. He cast a haunted glance around the hallway and witnessed the last of the dungeon guards fall under the attack of a Chitauri, so that he suddenly saw himself alone between the remaining soldiers and the one he now presumed to be their leader. The letter started to walk straight towards the portal, Loki's blood still dripping from his arm. As commanded by an inaudible order, the Chitauri parted in two groups, one closing in on Thor, the other headed in his brother's direction.

"You leave him be!" growled his voice, and Mjölnir was once more accelerated. The giant stranger seemed to pay him no further attention and was only few steps away from the portal, and the prince knew it was more important to fight those who weren't yet retreating, than to pick a fight with unclear outcome persuing the one who was.  
He took out one of the Chitauri approaching Loki with Mjölnir and then had to fend off those attacking him. They flooded in on him like before, a battle tactic that had him struggle. One enemy lashed out at him with the sharp end of an energy weapon and Thor couldn't counter fast enough. A deep cut over his cheek burned and bit, and he roared with anger as he snatched the responsale attacker by the back of his neck and pulled him in for a headbutt, then punching the stunned opponent in the chest with his hammer. The Chitauri flew back and dragged another one down in the process, but it still didn't win Thor enough room.  
Looking over his shoulder he saw the rest of the other group of enemy soldiers approaching Loki. To his undescripable relief he found that his brother was stirring, trying to get up. The attackers were starting to encirle him.

"Back! Not one step further!" he shouted at them in a voice quaking with wrath. Of course they didn't stop. Thor abandonned his fighting position, throwing Mjölnir and himself flying at the Chitauri nearest to his brother.

 

* * *

  
  
He didn't know how long he had been out, but suspected it could ony have been seconds, because none of his wounds had started to heal yet. Then he remembered the handcuffs. The pain was no more than a muffled pulsating glow just now, but with no magic at his hands to keep it this way, Loki knew that he had only moments to brace himself for a raging return of agony. With the numbness wearing off, the furious hotness in his organs grew more and more into incinerating hellfire with every beat of his labouring heart.  
Loki was neither happy nor sursprised that his torturer had taken care not to damage his heart too badly. That would really have killed the Jötun relatively quickly and he knew that hadn't been the point. But his stomach and lungs were ripped open, releasing blood and acid into the rest of his body. The bleeding already made him shake with cold.  
Attempting to breathe only caused him to cough up more blood that clogged his throat and left him to chose between swallowing and choking, both equally inclined to make the pain in his destroyed innards worse faster. When he once more gave in to the unbearable urge to inhale, he felt a sensation like a weight build up as he continued to try. His lungs were sticking together with blood. But that he knew that didn't make his body understand. With every sensation, from vertigo over screeching noises in his ears to deep-down-on-the-floor-of-an-ocean-like pressure, it forced him to continuously and uselessly gasp for breath.  
So suffocating it was. With noone to take off the damned shackles, Loki wouldn't be able to heal his devastated body. But that didn't mean he would die as fast as a mortal; his body, magic or no, was still purebred frostgiant. So he would eventually die, but take his fair time to enjoy the pain whilst bleeding dry.

At least he wouldn't wimper and whine, because that would require breath.

Not that he didn't want to scream, the need was unbearable, even silent screams would have been an ease, but it cost him all his will to fight the spasms of his abdominal muscles. It was his body still trying to get air in, but that would have ripped his torn lungs only more. The disempowered sorcerer was loosing the energy to fight it, so he gathered he could as well try to open his eyes and see who else was dying.  
Loki collected his senses. Listening ... yes, fighting was still taking place, he could make out the distant-sounding noises of energy weapons. Touch ... oh no, he shouldn't have tried this one. His skin was sending a barrage of alarm signals informing him about all the bruises and abrasions he hadn't previously been aware of. Vision ... small flickering spots of various colours on black background. That probably meant his lids were still closed.  
While he was still trying to remember how to regain control over his muscles after his body had decided go on autopilot, he heard something which kicked his resigning mind awake.

"Oh my poor boy."

Could it be?

"Oh my Loki."

Mother!  
Frigga, she shouldn't be here! _Dangerous!_ She should be as far away from Thanos as she only could. He jerked his eyes open as panic flooded him.  
It really was her. These soft features, this soothing voice, those wise eyes. They were wet with tears. She was kneeling beside him, with one hand caressing his temple so gently he didn't feel the touch.  
Did that mean ... did that mean that Odin and his warriors had seized the room? That they had pushed the Chitauri back, and that someone had been allowed to help him?

"My boy, I am so sorry." A tear was slowly running down her cheek, and he wanted to give in to the impulse to reach up and wipe it away. _Please don't cry, not for me ... I don't want to be the reason for your tears. Never wanted to make you sad._

His body was only trembling now. He couldn't gather the strength to lift his hand, not with the additional weight of the handcuffs, and his eyes fell shut. He ripped then open again to the sound of some weapon blast hitting the wall next to him.  
They still fought, what was she doing here completely in the open and unprotected!  
His eyes shot to hers, terrified, pleading. They tried to say what he could not. _Leave! Run, hide!_

"Hush! It is alright." Her hands were grasping his, but he seemed numb to her touch. And then he saw it. That subtle flickering on her skin, the strangely frayed looking edges to her appearance.

Her illusion started to fade beginning at the hands, where she had touched him. One last look full of sorrow, and her image vanished with a glimmer in the air.  
His lids slid shut again.

Only then felt he something in his hand. Something about as big as a child's fist, cool and smooth and vibrant to the touch.  
Loki gasped once more, this time in surprise.  
He hadn't known she could do such a thing. He hadn't know it was possible. Frigga, an adept user of spells and charms, had not occupied herself with the illusion magic as much as he had. She had smiled with benign amusement upon his obsession and proudly watched him overtrump her own abilities. Yet she had just established an illusion of her not only from several rooms, but several floors away, and moreover, she had managed to leave a healing stone in his hand.  
  
With the silent mutter of thanks on his blood drenched lips he pulled his hand over his stomach and used the stone up to repair the worst of the damage inside. He drew in a deep hungry breath as his lungs were closed up, and welcomed the sharp stinging pain as longed for relief from the crushing pressure before. The power of a healing stone was limited, it hadn't been enough to close the skin, to mend the broken bone in his shoulder, or even to clean up all the torn bits in his chest. But he could breathe, and his stomach no longer seemed to leak its destructive acids.  
Coughing and groaning, he shifted his weight to his elbows, chains clinking on the stone floor. He spat the thick blood in is mouth to the ground, and coughed up some more between deep heavy breaths of sweet sweet air.  
The god of mishief pushed himself higher, and lifted his head.

There was a massive crash next to him and little bits of solid stone sprayed on Loki. He looked up to recognise Thor who had just merged a Chitauri firmly with the wall. The thunder warrior pulled Mjölnir out of the remains and went straight at the next enemy, but a bolt of energy knocked him out of Loki's field of vision.  
The injured was momentarily dazzled by the bright lights illuminating the hallway from the ceiling and lighthead from the effort of getting up. He couldn't see half of what was happening around him, and he needn't to know it was very bad. Desperately looking around his gaze fell on the entrance gates on the top of the stairs. They were opening.  
Loki was almost up on one knee, when two energy bolt blasts impacted on his back and took him down and out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that is all I have at the moment. The story continues, but is still only in my head.  
> Anyone interested in reading more? Is my writing acceptable? Especially the grammar? Please comment. :)


	4. You had ONE job

Thor cursed the fact that he wasn't wearing full body armour. Walking a chained and magically impaired Loki to his cell was not a duty that implied the need for battle preparations. Sulky retorts and foul-tempered gazes he could handle quite well, after all, centuries of exposure had hardened him. Mjölnir he had only brought to make it easyer for Loki to maintain his attitude of compliance. But while still considering the eventuality of a Loki-tantrum entirely possible, Thor certainly had not expexted a disturbance from the outside to create a full-fledged battle situation. The prince was lucky that, out of habit and lazyness, he wore the breast plating most of the time.  
The blasts fired from the Chitauri weapons could not penetrate his specially-made armour, but the impacts were still as forceful as a physical tackle and hot enough to make it feel more than a little uncomfortable.

  
The unanticipated hit from the side, as he was charging another enemy near his brother, hurled Thor to the side and sent him rolling over the floor. In a turn he managed to get his feet under him, stabilising himself with one hand. The stricken warrior smelled the stench of burned hair, tightened his jaw and covered his upper arm with his other hand. The bolt had hit his unprotected arm, vaporising skin and flesh and scorching the bone. And only because his rune enchanted gear would help him rebuild the tissue faster than any ordinary Asgardian, this didn't mean it hurt any less.

The unquenched smouldering heat was quickly spreading, and made Thor feel like his bone was falling to ashes.  
The prince allowed his torching pain and injured pride to break out in a short angry groan, his face a hateful grimace towards the shooter. Two other attackers jumped on him, pointy teeth bared, and Thor reached his unhurt arm out to call his weapon. He had no time for this, the rest of the enemies were already nearing his brother again, to do who knows what their leader had ordered them.

The thunder god kicked one Chitauri off him and let his hammer slam down to smash the other's forehead in. But he wasn't fast enough; the remaining four of the hideous creatures had sourrounded the rising injured and were aiming their weapons at him. Out of other options, Thor let Mjölnir bolt at one attacker and darted at another, ripping him to the ground. There was nothing he could do about the other two, and the warrior caught the sight of Loki smashed down by their shots.  
He could but cry out for his brother in fear and fury, while the wrestling Chitauri flung himself on top and sank his teeth in the Asgardian's forearm.

  
Then a blue brightness filled the hallway. The attacker was catapulted off him and howled in pain as he crashed into stone. More flashes glared and Thor heard the hastened trampling and clatter of armed men rushing into the dungeon. The prince pulled himself half up breathing heavily, and lifted his head to look into the direction of the noises.  
Through the open gates atop the entrance stairs fell daylight from the hall beyond, and in the middle stood King Odin, Gungnir still sparking in his hands.

  
"Father!"

The Allfather's one-eyed gaze circled the hallway below him, judging the situation.

"Thor. Are you unhurt?"

"Yes - no - it is nothing, but-" "Can you walk?" inquired his the king without letting worry affect his calm voice.

"Yes, father," replied Thor and hurried to get on his feet.

Odin let his eye wander over the fallen Chitauri and then to Loki.

"Men, seize the wounded and search all corridors. Secure the prisoner and chain-" "No!" was now Thor's turn to cut his father's words off, which the latter answered with the lifting of his eyebrow, awaiting a justified explanation.

"Loki had no part in this, and he needs help. Please!"

"To the healing chamber with you," Odin commanded his son in a louder tone, with no word responding to Thor's mention of Loki.

"No arguing, you are wounded."

"So is he!" Thor pointed an outstretched hand to the motionless Jötun.

I beg of you, have him brought to the healers. You can put him back in chains later and-"

"Loki!!"

The dispute was interrupted by a petrified female voice. Frigga passed her husband and lifted her flowing skirts to hurry down the steps. Thor watched as she knelt beside the ravaged body of her young one and turned him on his side. The warrior's face was the archetype of helplessness when he heard his mother's quiet weeping. Pleadingly he looked at his father, unwilling to walk away from Loki, but not daring to step nearer.

The king frowned and thightened the grip around his spear, obviously torn between pity and caution.

  
"This may be a trick. How did these intruders get in, if not by his guidance?"

Frigga's head shot around. "He was not the one behind this."

Her glare was like that of wolf ready to jump, warning her husband not to speak one wrong word.

"You are quick to judge, Odin. But I saw what happened."

Her voice sounded unfamiliarly deep and harsh, trembling with a threatening undertone. "What was done to him."

The godesses words grew quieter as she turned her face back to Loki and lay a hand gently on his forehead. The palish blue of his skin faded under her fingers, leaving his face almost white. Thor breathed a little whine of relief seeing the sorcerers body respond to Frigga's touch, still alive with the magical force dwelling in his veins. She lifted her other hand from Loki's, shifted over his shackled wrists, and hovered it an inch over his bload-soaked chest, looking strained.

"Nobody protected him ..."

The words hit Thor in the stomach and he swallowed with guilt. Odin must have felt the same ping, as his face grew softer with a sigh and Gungnir's end was put gently on the ground.

"It would be unwise," sounded the king's voice calm as ever, "if a man ignored his wife's heart's desire." His gaze pulled away from the scene before him and seeked one of palace guards.

"Get healers down here."

The man hurried, and the Allfather looked back to his queen, and his elder son, who had rushed to her side in the instant he had felt the fatherly anger starting to disperse.

"I trust," said Odin to both of them, "that you will take all measures to guarantee that the prisoner's sentence is upheld." He looked Thor in the eyes, as to emphasize that this was his duty.

See to it that he can not cause anyone harm."

"Yes, father."

The prince watched the king turn around and shivered lightly for a moment. He knew very well that Odin was talking about the possibility that all this really was a trick of Loki's, and that the god of mischief might not have qualms about hurting Frigga. Father would hold Thor responsable.

"And go to the healers!" the Allfather shouted, not turning his head back as left the dungeon.

So reminded, the thundergod clutched his arm, again aware of the flaring pain. The wound was already starting to heal, but the damage of skin and muscle burned away was always more expensive to repair than a simple injury from a cut or stab or a broken bone, where the tissue was severed but still _there_.

"Hold still," said Frigga and Thor looked to finally face her.

He had dreaded to meet her eyes, fearing they might be full of accussation, that she might blame him for all. But her voice was gentle and soothing, her expression nothing but loving concern. She forced down the tears for her one son to give his other a smile as her fingers made contact with his seared skin, and Thor felt her healing spell slowly smother the fiery pain. He permitted himself to close his lids for a second and savor the cool, relaxing sensation of her balming touch. The burn still stung, sharp like a bag of razors. Breathing out slowly he opened his eyes to her fingertips on his face. She stroked away a sweaty strand of his blond hair.

"I am sorry, my dear. I can not heal you fully now. My power is not ... I require all of it for your brother. It is ... quite ..."  
The words failed her as another tear wetted her cheek. The prince swallowed and silently looked at the unconcious god of mayhem whose chest rose and sank subtly.

_Quite bad. I know. I saw._

"He needs me more than you now. I love you, but I love you both."

She needn't say any of this. In the way she had called Loki his brother Thor had sensed that she already knew he would understand. The prince of Asgard wordlessly took his mother's hand and kissed it.

"Go to the healing chamber, rest for a while. I will have him brought there, too. Then we speak."

With a nod and a last glance into his Jötun brother's deathlike face he stood up. He had contemplated the thought of objecting. But he felt weak, just weak, and defeated. And he knew Frigga would need all of her concentration to help Loki until he could be carried to the healers. Thor would only disturb her. Stand around useless. Failing.

Walking up the stairs, the warrior clenched his fist in an impotent rage that welled up inside bim, caused by the feeling of leaving the field of a lost battle.

Oh, he would really love to hear some good explanations later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uuuugh. I really struggle with narrating very dynamic scenes such as fights, where everything happens within seconds. I find it rather difficult to find the proper verbs to describe combat moves in English.  
> Anyway, I really laboured over this chapter. Hope it turned out alright.


	5. I'm not denying anything and that's the truth..ish

"Don't be mistaken to think that I am here out of worry about you," said the god of thunderstorms gloomily and Loki was mildly offended to be told such an amateurish lie.

An hour had passed since he had woken up in the healing chamber. Nobody had come to see him, nobody had told him anything. He had been led into a resting room where he was allowed to sit down and look at the walls. The guards at the entrance were no entertainment as they had obviously been ordered not to engage in any talk with their guardee.

The largely recovered patient turned his head and pushed himself further up the back of the recliner, careful not to rub his healing skin too firmly against the surface, his still shackled hands inusable in his lap. His gaze hang curiously on his visitor as Thor pulled up a stool.

  
"I want to know how the indruders could get into Asgard, and what is your connection with them. Father wanted to have you interrogated by the conjurers, but I was permitted to speak with you first. Be warned that if you refuse to answer my questions, or lie to me, I will leave, and others will come, from whom even you cannot hide the truth."  
The god of mischief's upper lip twitched at the effective threat. Having his memories pulled forcefully out of his head by magic wasn't something he'd look forward to, even more so when the enchanted handcuffs prohibited any influence on what exactly they would receive.

  
He gave a little nod, leaned his head back and looked at the ceiling. "Ask."

"So, how did they get in?"

The Liesmith blinked at the pointlessness of this first question. Did Thor really expect him to answer this? But the concept of a rhetorical question would be beyond the warrior's grasp, so he was obviously serious about the inquiry.

"Hmmm. The way I saw it," replied Loki with an earnest expression, in an emphatic voice, as if he were to explain something to a particularly slow schoolboy, "they appeared to have opened some kind of portal from a distant place to the dungeon."

"Don't try my patience, Loki! How were they able to open this portal, I thought the power of the tesseract is required for something like that?"

"The tesseract was needed to open a portal big enough for a whole army of soldiers and gigantic beasts. The one in the dungeon was only very small, and open over just some minutes. This can be performed with a much smaller source of energy."

"Like what?"

"I wouldn't know. He didn't exactly let me in on the subject."

Thor's expression made it clear that he didn't believe one word. He banged his fist on the marble surface of the end table, and stood up, turning to leave.  
"I don't know!" shouted Loki after him, and Thor hesitated. "Good grief, how come people are so easily gulled by the most ridiculous lies, but when I tell the truth, everybody suddenly suspects deceit."

His frustration was genuine. He knew he was in trouble, because it mattered not if what he said was true or false, Thor would not trust his words, and then it would be the conjurers.

The thundergod turned back, not entirely convinced.  
"He ... the leader, that giant of strange color, the one who injured you? What did he want with you? Why the attack, was it only about you?"

"He is a titan, not a giant," Loki was patient to explain without answering any of these questions. The interrogator seemed dissatisfied, impatiently repeating the query.

"The reason. Talk."

Loki sighed and gave in. "He meant to take me into is realm."

Thor sat back down next to his brother and proved that he had done some hard work thinking and come to some perceptive conclusions.

"But he didn't want to free you, did he? He is no friend of yours. Why did he want to take you with him?"

"To invite me in his hall and court me with flowers and honey cake."

Even Thor seemed to be bright enough to figure that Loki was unwilling to provide details on this particular question. He tried a different approach.  
"Why did he leave without you, then?"

"Oh I don't know, maybe he grew fearful when he witnessed your battle prowess, and fled?"

The reply was pure ridicule, but the talking tired Loki. His words were flat and somewhat blunted around the usually razor sharp edges. Without the familiar acidity in his brother's voice, Thor remained oblivious to the mockery. He scratched his beard.

"No, I think not. I believe he rather thought of me as a weak opponent whom his underlings would easily defeat."

"You don't say." It was more of a whisper than an exclamation, and Loki hardly had his eyes open. Yet, Thor appeared to have caught the accusing undertone. He looked hurt.

"I did try to save you, you know. And I stopped them long enough when they went to get you."

The Silvertongue didn't respond. The talk was quickly taking a direction he wanted to avoid at all cost. Luckily, Thor let the topic slide and brought up a more helpful subject.

"Can he do it again? Can there be another attack?"

"Ah. Good question." A little smirk escaped Loki's lips. "I do believe they are capable of opening further portals, but they also need guidance. There has to be something at the place of destination, a marker of some sorts. Which they do not have in Asgard, not any longer."

Thor obviously had some difficulties understanding.

"Father suspects that it was you who lead the intruders into Asgard."

"Well, I was."

"What?"

"I was ... what lead them here. In a way." He closed his eyes and drew a breath, explaining complex things to Thor was always so straining.

"He found a path into Asgard, because I am here. There is ... there was something ..." He had to make a little pause and think of a way to put it in words the thunderwarrior could understand. "Some sort of device I had on me. It was able to guide him to me, like a beacon. It was the marker. He could have found me anywhere, followed me everywhere."

"And this ... device, he took it from you ... out of ...?" The conclusion was somewhat impressive for Thor to come up with on his own. Loki deducted that his brother must have seen more details than the god of mischief would have liked him to know about.

"Yes. It was what he came to retrieve."

Putting it in such innocent words could not completely prohibit him from remembering vividly, and Thor seemed to be facing the same trouble, as he fell silent for a while and stared at nothing. The prisoner made use of the break to gather some strength.

  
"So, why did the ... remove his marker from you, if he can't get to you now? That doesn't make sense."

Loki shrugged. "Perhaps he needs it for something else."

"And if, maybe, that thing is all he wanted from you? And he can't return?"

Now he just had to laugh, and it hurt. Stupid Thor, he was so ridiculous in his hopeful naivety it literally hurt, oh and hurt it did a lot. The laughter quickly turned into coughing.

"Please don't do that again," the sorcerer managed, weakly letting himself fall back.

"What?"

"Making me laugh. I really stings."

Thor narrowed his eyebrows. "I can hit you, if you prefer. Answer the question, and be serious about it."

Loki cleared his throat. "No, I dont think that he is quite finished. And he will return, if he finds a way."

He'll return not just for me, but for all of you ... He won't ever stop attacking, he won't spare any realm, he'll go on until there is no one left to slaughter ... That was what Loki knew, but what he said was: "But his forces are diminished. He will be careful about his next step."

For a minute or two, Thor granted his brother to rest, engrossed in his own reflections. Loki seized the opportunity to close his eyes and concentrate on the mental image of some healing runes, which had some kind of placebo effect against the biting pain violating his chest, and the pounding headache. Then the deep voice of the thunderwarrior broke the silence as he bothered his victim once more with fruitless enquiries.

"So. The intruders were the same as those who attacked Midgard under your command. They fought for you, but now their new leader has them assault you."

"Yes."

He raised a bored glance at his interviewer who seemed to be expecting a detailed report, but Loki wouldn't to him the favour to make this interrogation any easer than getting blood from a stone. The little game of patience posed absolutely no challenge with Thor as the rival.

"Would you please care to elaborate?"

The god of thunder and fancy words, that was something. Loki figured he had his brother at a point where he was really trying hard not to explode. The god of lies hesitated. Should he enlighten the prince of Asgard, or shouldn't he? After giving Thor all - well, most of the information he had wanted, and a little teasing, it was high time the god of lies thought of his own gain from this. After a well-measured pause, he sighed.

"He's not their new leader. I was never the one to control the Chitauri."

"But I thought you commanded them then!"

"Thinking is not your forte, brother." His grin was to reveal obvious satisfaction. "But I do appreciate your confidence in my capabilities."

Thor looked appalled at the revelation that maybe the god of mayhem had not been the one, well, at least not the only one responsable for the disastrous attack on New York. But Loki also knew that the warrior was torn. He wanted to believe his brother, but had to be cautious, because it was Loki the Liesmith he was talking to, and you were to never let your guard down around the little deceiver.

"So you are saying that it was not your order to invade the city of New York? Why didn't explain that at your trial?"

"Ah! The trial! Odin hearing the apology of a treacherous Jötun, how unprejudiced a verdict."

The words were oozing sarcasm, a crude side blow aiming at the Thor's easily offended sense of family honor. But the prince kept his calm. He was now alert and watchful for any signs of possible manipulation. Just like Loki wanted him.

"Yes, he _was_ hearing you," emphasised the Odinson, "and that is more than I would have done. The Allfather's judgements are just, and wise. You or me are not ones to question his decisions."

Loki sat up apruptly. "Yes, like his decision did you any good last time."

He shifted away from Thor ever so slightly, his body-language mimicking awe, and his shoulders stiffened, as if he were awaiting to be beaten for the insulting reminder. The blonde looked him in the eyes with a saddened expression.

"It did. You wouldn't understand it."

Loki sank back into his seat. "Or maybe I just don't care."

That gained him another few seconds of blissful silence, then Thor was back on his track of you-can-still-make-this-right.

"Had you spoken truthful, you might have been spared the imprisonment."

Another short laugh-cough painfully rocked Loki's chest.

"I don't seem to have heard Odin say that I am punished for the attack on the mortals' city. What were the exact words? 'For your numerous crimes' ... You can't really think that he has me put in the dungeon just for some little skirmish on an insignificant realm?"

"So insignificant you wanted to rule over it?"

The god of masquerades' facade didn't so much as crumble.

"I quite like the drinks they offer there."

Thor had grown more and more impatient of the joking replies, his sun-kissed face was slowly reddening with helpless agitation as his bull-headed brother persisted on making things worse for himself. He raised his arms in frustration.

"Why do you defend your lies, when admitting the truth can do you much more good?"

Oh, that was perfect. Just a little more.

"How so? _Am_ I not blameworthy of many other crimes?" Loki lifted his slim shoulders and drew his face nearer to his brother, wide eyes glistening with prideful guilt. "I enslaved two of your allies and had them kill many of their own kind. I almost destroyed the mortals' flying fortress. And I killed one of their commanders. All that was my doing, not that of the Chitauri. Would you let me go unpunished for that?"

"No, but-" "And I stabbed you, remember?" He clenched his cuffed fists in excitement, seeming like a madman craving for affirmation, as if unaware that his words were more likely to win him a punch than recognition. "Oh! And let's not forget how I trapped you in that crystal prison to kill you. Were these not my own deeds?"

"I've had worse from you."

There seemed to be a short moment when they both could not supress such a thing as a faint smile. That was about long enough ... Loki pointedly looked away, recovering his dismissive facade. Then he proceeded to position the unsuspecting Thor right on a big painted X on the floor.

"Still ..." His eyes bore into the ceiling and he was every inch the picture of a man who knows he is beyond bad and doesn't want to hear otherwise.

Thor was in so big a trap he didn't see the walls of it.

"These were smaller misdeeds compared to the death and destruction that was brought upon the mortals by the attack on their city. If that was not your fault, father should know. He would surely reconsider-" - "Even," Loki jerked up from the recliner to cut his gullible brother off with his chained hands grabbing the warrior's forearm, "if you were to pardon me, fa-..Odin is still punishing me for my deception of him, and for trying to destroy Jötunheim. Even if I ... were forgiven for everything I was made to do on Midgard ... he still wouldn't ... "

He let his voice trail off and swallowed, seemingly having trouble to force himself calm as he pulled himself back into the recliner. The almost-slip of the word "father" had been a nice touch to his tormented outburst. Thor was positively assured that he had now discovered the hidden truth.

"So, if you did not lead those beasts to attack, but were yourself led, why did you not say so?"

"Would you have believed me then?" Loki was looking away, breathing heavily and that was no act. The harsh movements had made the pain flourish again.

"Probably not," admitted Thor.

"Well, I am known to lie. Do you honestly think anybody would have believed me if I had protested my inocence at the trial?"

The prince didn't reply and Loki knew he had succeeded. It was was one of his neatest tricks to con those who knew him too well. To make someone believe a liar, they first had to be convinced that they had exposed a lie, and then let them conclude what he wanted them to think. It was perfect, so useful, and it mattered not if he was to persuade them into believing a falsehood or the truth, or, in this case, kind of the truth.

"And maybe," he said, calculated grin on his lips, as his eyes wandered off, "I enjoyed to uphold the lie everybody already believed."

"Why? To have the nine realms think that you're capable of getting an army at your disposal? That you are dangerous and evil? I don't understand you, brother!"

Loki closed his eyes, keeping his grin on.

"Rumor has it I am insane."  
  
The god of deceit was left alone after being told to have a rest. A minute after Thor had exited the room, Loki asked for a book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogues are fun! But sadistic violence is funner, and so the next chapter will have plenty. Don't know when it'll be finished, but I hope by the end of the week. Thank you all for enjoying my maiden work!


	6. You may feel a little sting

"And you fell for that?"

The graceful swordsman shook his golden locks in disapproval. "He basically just blamed the whole invasion on his former ally. That isn't even a particularly fancy lie, is it? I would have imagined Loki to come up with a more inventive excuse."

He advanced with a sequence of beats and flicks which Thor parried with his hammer and the armored back of his forearm.

"'Tis true, when he lies he usually spins a lacy web."

The thunderwarrior avoided a thrust and countered with a blow aimed at the fencer's open side, who swerved in a quarter circle.

"He must have used the exact same one a hundred times," guessed Fandral. Another flourish dashed at Thor's neck, but the god stopped the blade with his wristguard. His sparring partner landed a remise beat sharply on Thors fingers before qickly stepping back out of range. "I'd have thought that by now you really ought to have become less vulnerable to his ways of beguilement, my prince."

Thor cracked his fist and realigned his stance. "I have. First he did try to lie to me, but I saw through it." His sparring partner gave him a puzzled look.

"He attempted to make his role in the attack seem more important than it was."

"You said earlier that you found out that Loki was not the leader of the invasion?" The fencer elegantly lunged at Thor. His rapier was caught with Mjölnir's handle.

"Yes. He admitted to it only after I threatened to beat him."

The swordsman let out a short laugh and disengaged. "He may be arrogant, and but he does also have his most immediate interests in mind."

Thor shook his head. "If he did, he would not have withheld the detail from father."

As his partner didn't make a move, the warrior came forward, readying his hammer for a throw. Fandral backed off, trying to keep enough distance for an evasion.

"Why do you think he did that, if he claims innocence?"

"He doesn't, Fandral." Thor stopped his advance. "Nor was he bargaining for a lenient punishment. Rather the opposite, he made a point that everything he did were his own feats."

The handsome swordsman lowered his rapier, seeing as his friend was unfocused.  
"So he was, well, bragging?"

"Loki always took pride in his acts of mischief."

"Yes! And undoubtedly he would love us all to deem him ruler of an army of beasts. Loki the warlord, challenger of the Nine Realms!"

"That was what he made eveyone believe."

"Sounds quite like him. But why would he choose eternal captivity, for a reputation?"

"Choose ... no. He is convinced that the Allfather would punish him anyway."

"Well, would he?"

"Yes. I talked to him. He was ... displeased. I told him what Loki had confessed."

"And?"

"My father ... called it foolish. He said all Loki did was to lull me into speaking on his behalf whilst holding back information about the enemy. We ... almost had an argument."

"Isn't that what Loki does best, sowing conflict?"

Thor frowned. He straightened and swirled Mjölnir around a circle. _"He tried to make me angry with father, mentioning my banishment."_

"Ouch. Did it work?" The fencer went en garde. Thor changed with a high blow, Fandral ducked under the weapon and dived for the warriors front, elbow aimed up at his throat. The thundergod barely caught the counterattack with his left, stopping his opponent. He crushed his raised right arm down heavily on the lighter man's shoulder, almost bringing him to his knees. Fandral wheezed, but held his stand. His silver blade lightly tapped Thor's completely open side. "Very sloppy."

Thor pushed him back, grinning. "No, it didn't work. I possess great self-control."

The grin was returned, and both fighters retook their positions.

"So it turns out the master of mieschief was but a pawn in someone else's game? That's kind of hard to believe."

"But I believe him. I may be wrong, but it is my feeling he would not embarass himself if it weren't true." He straightened himself and swirled Mjölnir around a circle. The fencer changed his stance.

"No offence my prince, but that sure does sound like a trickery to me." He dashed forward with a lunge. "Two contradicting stories, so you would be lured to buy the less likely one?" Thor parried a rash of beats and then hit the rapier to the side with his hammer so hard the metal sang for a second. Fandral swiftly turned the blade inwards, aiming for the warrior's waist, but stumbled back when a fist blow stopped him at the shoulder.

Thor held him at armlength. "It cannot all have been lies."

"But not the truth, either." Fandral took a step back and began to circle his sparring partner. "Dealing with Loki, I'd guess that until proven otherwise, one would be best advised to assume both versions are false."

"Logically, they can't."

"Now, I see," Fandral teased, "he's got you there!"

He parried a sudden straight blow with the quillon and dealt a riposte thrust to Thor's upper arm, followed by a feint. "Even without his magic?" Mjölnir crushed the flashing rapier down, and Fandral, not missing a beat, elegantly continued with an upward circle that scraped his sparring partner's weapon hand. "Sly Silvertongue, soon he'll talk you into putting on a women's -OW!"

Thor had landed a forceful hammer blow to the swordsman's wrist and knocked the rapier out of is hand.

"Very good, my prince." Fandral rubbed his knuckle and stooped down to collect his dropped rapier. "If not the most elegant of maneuvers." He looked up at his friend, noticing his gloomy expression, and sighed.

"This whole matter really got at you, Thor." He shook his battered hand.

The thundergod didn't reply immediately. How could he descripe to his friend what he felt when he saw his own brother, criminal or not, collapse in his blood, defenseless and unprotected.

"At one point, Loki mentioned something about the things 'he was made to do', I think he might have been somehow forced or controlled."

"What? Is that what he said?"

"Not quite ... he was very agitated and it slipped his tongue."

Fandral looked astonished. "Must be shameful for a player to admit he's been played."

"I think he will deny it, if asked again."

"But he ought not. It would make quite a diffence."

"I don't think he would like anybody to find out about it."

"Even if it might excuse his actions?"

"Yes. I fear my brother might indeed be mad." Or had he hoped that in the dungeon of Asgard he would at least be safe?

"That may be true, my prince. Doesn't make him more trustworthy, though."

Thor answered nothing. He looked up at windows high up the palace. Nobody was to be seen. Not even a raven. The prince knew that whatever was happening with Loki right now, it was happening behind very thick walls.

Guessing what his friend was pondering about, Fandral stepped behind him.

"They'll get the truth out of him, and then the fuss is over with." He amiably slapped Thor on the back. "One more round?"

The thundergod pulled his eyes of the deserted window and turned his head.

"One more."

 

* * *

  
  
Asgardians were no strangers to magic. Although the use of spells and runes was more generally attributed to women, male wizards mastering the knowledge of arcane symbols and rituals was not unheard of. Occasionally, Asgardians, however less common than in some of the other races, bore children gifted with the talent of sorcery, the ability to gather and form one's own inner magic to alter reality. So while most of the population took to the craft of warfare, hunting or to handcraft trades - the art of brewery being one of the most treasured - it was not too strange a sight to find a spellcaster or sorceress among the folks in the streets. Valued for sharing and passing on the ancient magical wisdom and putting it to beneficial uses, they represented respected members of the society, and even in a member of a noble family the knowledge of witchcraft and sorcery was far from undesirable.

Not so the conjurers. While healing, illusion magic, alchemy, enchanting, elemental theurgy, and prophecy all were attached to the things that are and those that will be, conjuring was the magic of the things that were. Summoning or altering the things that belonged in the past were with every right regarded as unnatural, and the practice of such wizardry frowned upon. Conjurers dwelt in the dark corners of the Asgard realm, at some times persecuted, tolerated at others. A reputable citizen would hesitantly call on a conjurer in order to restore a thing of great value that was beyond recovery, and it was rumored that sometimes an einherjar would seek the services of one to get in touch with loved ones from the mortal life who had not been chosen by a Valkyrie to sit at the table in Odin's hall. And then there were the rumors of many a spell that had brought forth awful and unholy things.

It was the magic of things lost and things forgotten.

In the case of Loki, things he wished to stay forgotten.

Three leather-clad figures hid their faces in the shadow of their black hoods. Standing around him in a triangle, murmuring spells and looking dark, Loki was almost amused by the sheer ridicule of it, but only almost. He could hear fragments of the spells, and he knew some of the words. They made him feel uneasy, very uneasy.  
It was not hard for the god of masquerades to sit in the middle of the candle-lit room chained to his chair and look nonchalant. When the conjurers started to fiddle with rune engraved pieces of bone and other obscure objects, he had started to laugh, until he was threatened to be gagged should he not be quiet.  
The guards that had brought him in had left the room, and he was alone with the horrid ritualists. Already he began to experience an unpleasant feeling creeping up in his bones, similar to that nastiness in a limb asleep right before the pins-and-needles-part starts. The urge to squeeze his arms and legs was the worst, and Loki tensed his muscles.

One of the conjurers stepped in front of him, a small dagger gleaming in his hands. The god of mischief fought to keep his calm. After all, he was a prisoner of war and of noble birth, and they were abominable freaks who should be happy to be left alive, so what could they possibly dare to do to him.  
A hooded head was bent down when the man reached for Loki's hand and pulled it up as far as the chains allowed. With one quick slice, he made a cut across the palm. Loki yelled in surprise and glared at the evildoer who was already grabbing the prisoner's other hand. Unceremonously, the same cut was applied to this palm, too. Loki ripped his hurt hand from the conjurer's and made a fist, blood gushing through his fingers. He bared his teeth in furious hate. Then the short, arrowhead-shaped blade touched his forehead. Instinctively he flinched and tried to pull his head back, but it was already held in place by another of the magi who stood behind Loki. A whispered word, and the muscles in the Jötun's neck and shoulders slackened. Forced to hold still, Loki hissed through clenched teeth as the conjurer in front of him carved a third cut down his forehead.

"Is he ready?" demanded the one behind him in as the other stepped back. His voice sounded eager, greedy.

"No!" snapped Loki.

"He is ready," the conjurer who had cut him affirmed. He wiped the bloodied blade on a rag that looked as if it had been used for this purpose for centuries. He grabbed Loki's right hand, squeezing fingernails in his sliced palm. The left hand was in the same way taken by the third of the conjurers. The prisoner bit the inside of his lower lip. The man behind him pushed his hand flat against the god's forehead.

Then Loki burst in pain.

It was like the sensation of something so cold that the skin can no longer distinguish it from hot. It exploded in his head, shot down his spine and his arms. On his forehead and hands it felt like they were trying to pull his bones and flesh through the cuts in his skin. He didn't know if screamed, or for how long, because time and his senses slipped away, and then, Loki awoke in a nightmare.


	7. How nice of you to remember

"Is this really necessary?"

The outcast tried hard to hide the panic rising up in him. "I have the means to contact you whenever required."

"He will be the one to decide when contact is required."

Loki hissed a laught, it sounded a little choked.

"Have you so little confidence in your loyal allies? Have I not earned your trust by delivering invaluable knowledge about the tesseract and the mortals who possess it?"

"You have earned nothing yet, Odinson."

 _"Comply, and I may be so merciful as to make you forget afterwards."_ That didn't really ease his nerves ... When he lay back on the crude black stone bench he was feeling his magic try to teleport him away out of pure instinct. Only that wouldn't be possible just now.

_"You are a craven, spineless worm. Cowards can not be trusted unless on a leash."_

_I am a god_ , Loki wanted to shout, but Thanos' large hand was already over his mouth, pressing his jaw shut so tight Loki almost heard his bones crack. The titan's other arm was placed over the sorcerer's slim waist and the overpowering clinch held him in place no different than the infinite weight of Mjölnir had.

"Hold still and this won't hurt ... as much," said the Other in his voice that made Loki's bones chill. The masked leaned over him, holding a ritual knife in his right hand, and in the other an inch-long, obscure crystal needle that looked like a shard of something.

The Jötun's eyes widened as he saw the knife blade glow up orange and then turn white hot. He flinched at the first sizzling when the scorching blade melted through his chest armour, right above his heart. It stank of burned leather, and the stench was about to mix with the reek of singed flesh. Under Thanos' hand he choked on a whine as the glowing iron went through the thin skin like trough butter and the tip started to press down on his breast bone. The sorcerer broke in sweat, realising what the Other would do. The outcast prince wanted to thrash his arms about and try to wrestle himself free, but the titan would only have laughed in scorn. So his arms clenched the sides of the bench he was lying on and stiffend his body in a futile attempt to pull himself together and not look like the weak and whining caricature of a god.

His agonized groan was muffled by the titan's pitiless grip as the blade slowly fused and burned into the bone. The Other seemed to want to make this a ceremony, nice and lengthy ...  
The immense heat seared every nerve instantly, but the screaming pain rapidly spread along his sternum and the ribs until Loki thought he was being fried from the inside out. He frantically sucked air through Thanos' squeezing fingers and closed his eyes to hide his agony and distress from the cruel gaze.

When, after what felt like the longest minute of all times, the Other was satisfied with the size of the opening he had burned into his victim's chest, he yanked at the knife and tore it out. Loki drew a shrieking breath as the cooling metal ripped from smouldering tissue. He was drenched in sweat, with wet streaks of glistening jet black hair sticking to his face, and his limbs trembled, muscles exhausted from the rigid tension. The hole in his chest still felt like it was filled with red-hot coals and was numb to the Other's thumb planting the small shard deep into the charred crevasse.

The next thing Loki remembered was him waking up in an armchair with a faint stinging sensation in his chest and no recollection of the past hour. How sad that the blissful blackout had so rudely been corrupted ... his memory wound back. Him talking with the servants of Thanos, him putting his cards on the table about the tesseract, bidding over a bargain. Some of the conversations rushed by in a time-lapse slowing down for certain parts. The conjurers in his mind shuffled through memories like an archivist through a crate of manuscripts, back and forth. The recollections of his activities during the invasion were paraded past his inner eye. Him holding the staff with the glowing blue gem in its top and touching the mortal archer with it, in the same spot where his own body held the shard. Him preparing the tesseract as power source for the portal, him thrusting his dagger into his brother's side. The foreign presence in his mind pryed through pictures, words, sentiments, through every genius and stupid detail of his scheming.

The attack in the dungeon. Again, Loki felt his throat shut in the dreadful moment he realised what was coming for him, Thanos' words in his head. And then, _something_ that had been implanted into his mind in the instant when the titan's fingers had touched the shard inside his chest.

Dark cold engulfing him.  
Tiny points of light, millions and billions of them.  
Worlds, dark, dead, decaying. Dozens, hundrets, devoided of all life.  
All-devouring Death dancing in her glory.  
  
Loki jerked out of his mind. He was in the interrogation room, seated, chained, bleeding, panting. In front of him, one of the conjurers had collapsed. Another was squealing and grimacing with pain, both hands clenching his head.

 

* * *

  
  
"Is the prisoner well?"

"He is resting, my king" answered a guard.

"Very well then. Leave us."

The guard bowed his head and stepped outside the door.  
In the room remained Odin, surrounded by his war council, on this occasion extended by his wife who had been very clear about her beeing present when the conjurers revealed what they had discovered in Loki's mind.

A long table was lined by the council members, and before them stood one of the three conjurers. The other two had themselves excused due to an urgent need to regenerate.

Thor was not the only one with mixed feelings. To call warlocks into the palace of Asgard had been the king's decision which he would not question, but he could not help but loathe it, even more so when the detestable bastards were to use their abominable black magic on Loki who had for many centuries been a prince of Asgard like Thor. But he had talked with his friends, and he had talked with himself, and he had accepted that the only way to be sure about any information coming from the god of lies really was when that informaton did not make a detour over his tongue. And he still didn't like this. He had to restrain himself not to show his disgust towards the magus too openly.  
  
"Did you succeed in your task?," king Odin started the meeting.

"Yes, my lord." The conjurer's voice was thin and hoarse like an old woman's. It scratched in the inside of the ear.

"You did find the truth about everything you were to look for?"

"We did. About everything."

Thor's upper lip curled in disdain. He felt Sif's hand on his arm.

"Then tell us what you discovered," continued Odin, "about the intrusion in the dungeon. Did Loki lead the intruders into Asgard?"

"No, my lord. He was found by them with the help of a divice that he had been, hmmm, engrafted with." He picked his words very carefully, striving to deliver only the blunt facts without all the undesired associations.

"Was that his idea? Did he plan the ambush, or did he know about it?"

"No, it was not. It was not foreseen, but he did, hmmm, anticipate it."

"So he knew it could happen?"

"Yes, my lord."

There was a moment of silence. Odin was obviously musing about what to make of this revelation, and he didn't seem to see any way in which the fact could possibly speak in Loki's favour.

"Did he want the irruption to happen in order to escape his inprisonment?"

"No, my lord. A successful retrieval would not have resulted in his freedom. Hmmm, he does however plan on attempting an escape."

Thor felt a little tug at the corners of his mouth. Oh how well he knew his brother. But the trace of amusement was instantly choked down when he recalled what Loki had earlier answered to his question about what the purpose of the attempted abduction had been. His brother had essentially told him that this was none of his business, and the warrior had a deeply unsettling feeling what the nature of this not-his-business might be. Odin however did not follow that line of thought. His next enquiry aimed towards other concerns.

"Does the prisoner remain committed to the assaulters?"

"No, my lord. Their alliance was ended with the failed invasion of the mortal realm."

Thor had been shifting around on his seat. He hadn't been able to shake the guilty feeling that he'd done a lousy job watching over his captured brother, unarmed and constrained as he was. The overpowering need to make up for it at had earlier driven him to speak up for Loki before the Allfather and share the exonerating statements. Odin had simply brushed them away and his harshness had shut Thor up. Now he had the chance to get tamper-proof  confirmation.  
The prince leaned to the side, speaking in a low voice. "Ask him about the invasion of Midgard, father." Odin gave him a look, clearly he didn't approve of the tone of his son's suggestion, but this time Thor wasn't intimitaded to hold his tongue. "Please. Ask him if Loki was truly the initiator and the leader of the attack."  
The king looked at him for an intense couple of seconds before he turned back to the conjurer.

"Did Loki lead the attacking forces in Midgard?"

"Yes, my lord."

"And did he initiate the attack?"

"Yes."

"Was he in any way forced to commit crimes against his will?"

"No, my lord."

There. Odin looked satisfied. "Your doubts have thus been cleared up," he said to his son.

"I have one more question to ask," demanded the prince.

"Thor, all your questions have been answered."

"Just this one," the warrior quickly turned his head to the magus, "was Loki's will in any way altered or influenced?"

The conjurer raised his head so that his eyes emerged from the shadow of his hood.

"No, my lord" he answered.

"Was-" - "Enough!" Odin crushed his fist on the table. "Thor, you seem to forget what the purpose of this meeting is. It is not to find excuses for Loki's wrongdoings. If you cannot keep quiet about it now, you should leave."

The prince clenched his jaw. He would have stood up and stormed out of the room without another word, had it not been for Sif who kicked his leg under the table and gave him a look that ordered him to ease up.  
The king let his eye lie on his foul-tempered son for as long it took both of them to calm down. Then he proceeded to question the conjurer about his findings.

"Does Loki possess any knowledge about his former allies' further intentions?"

"Yes, my lord."

"And what are those?"

"To subdue the Nine Realms and all other inhabited realms of the cosmos."

The room fell completely silent for several heartbeats. Not even a shocked gasp was to be heard.

"Is this the fearful interpretation of the prisoner? Or is it a probable threat?" Odin sounded sceptical, knowing that the methods of the conjurers unvailed only the truth of the mind, but he would not take a risk in such a matter.

"Entirely probable, my Lord. The prisoner is, hmmm, sanely aware of a great menace that is to be expected from his former ally."

"What exactly does he provide about the enemy's strength and capabilities?"

The conjurer laid the fingertips of one hand to his forehead and lowered his head, recollecting the knowledge he had won from Loki.

"Hmmmmm. A lair that can not be known or accessed by Asgardians," he then started to list the items of information. "An army of various beasts that can adept to any surroundings and opponents and have superior access to tactical knowledge. A leader who possesses both unmatched strength and magical abilities. At his disposal he has mighty and cunning servants, and machinery of cosmic travel and teleportation allowing him to reach any place within Ygdrassil and, hmmm, outside."

Odin listened to all of it with an expression of growing concern. Frigga had taken his arm and held it when the king continued.

"Is Asgard a target?"

"Yes."

Thor drew an audible breath. Some murmuring became loud, and Odin called his council to order with a hand gesture.

"Does Loki possess any knowledge about planned attacks?"

"He does not, my lord. But he does think that an invasion of Asgard is not the primary objective, at the moment."

"And why does he think that?"

"My lord, it seems the prisoner has, hmmmm, brought his former ally to the misconception that Asgard is not worth the venture of an attack, for Midgard does hold much greater treasure and is much more vulnerable."

"Treasure, does that mean the tesseract cube?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Would Loki provide his allies with it to increase their power?"

"No, my lord. He, hmmm, schemed to betray them."

Odin narrowed his eyebrows.

"Why?"

"To divert their forces away from the realm of Asgard."

Frigga clutched her husband's arm tighter. Shifting and whispering waved up again among the attenders of the meeting.

"How?"

The conjurer slightly tilted his head, making one of his eyes gleam in the light.

"The prisoner offered to deliver the artifact under the condition that his allies would send their forces to conquer the mortal realm. He had, however, no intent to keep his promise. His objective was, hmmm, to strand the invading forces."

"Strand them?," Odin inquired.

"Yes. With the artifact lost and the gateway closed, the armies are unable to return to their lord."

Thor looked like he was about to burst any second now. Clearly the revelations of the last minutes had him beside himself and he didn't know any more what to make of it all. Loki had lied to him about having been forced to invade Midgard, and yet he hadn't really lied, and then on top of it all he hadn't mentioned with one word that he had risked everything to protect what he had said wasn't his home - ruining the home of thousands of humans in the process. If he were in the same room with Loki now, he wouldn't know if to embrace him or to beat the living daylights out of him.

The Allfather, too, took a moment to review the newly uncovered background facts.

"What does Loki know about the enemy's further plans?"

"Nothing, my lord, only guesses. Hmmm. He suspects his former allies would first seek to re-strengthen their forces, and then, hmmm, strive to acquire another artifact of comparable power."

The king's expression showed a hint of alarm.

"Did he tell them about the artifacts kept on Asgard?"

"No, my lord, he did not, however, they, hmmm, obtained the knowledge otherwise."

Another few moments of silence. Thor met his mother's sorrowful eyes. Odin looked troubled, as well.

"Is it true that the enemy can no longer use Loki to enter Asgard?"

"Yes. The beacon that was used is no longer here, no path can be found."

"Did you find any further knowledge about those magic paths of travel the enemies use?"

"Yes my lord. Their durability and extent of passage are limited dependant on the available power, and their paths must be directed. I did find, hmmm, knowledge about other secret pathways, knowledge of the prisoner. But the things bear no resemblance one to the other."

"You will cleanse yourself of this knowledge. It was not meant to be unveiled in such a manner."

"Yes, my king." It was the first time the conjurer adressed Odin with the title, he must have sensed the seriousness of the command.

"That will be all. You may take your leave."

"Yes, my king." He bowed his head, then hesitated.

"My king?"

"What is it?"

"There was, hmmm, something in the prisoner's mind that was not of his own. An imprint of another's presence. We have not been the first to, hmmm, enter."

There was no reply to that, and he turned around to walk out of the room.

As soon as magus was outside, Thor jumped up from his seat.

"Fa-" The king ordered his son to silence with a glare, then he called his guards back in.

"Get sorcerers. They are to scour all of the hall of Asgard for any object of magical nature that is not from this realm. Include the dungeon and the vault, then continue with the city. I want every corner searched thoroughly. Every object found is to be examined, and should it not be identified, destroyed. The patrols guarding the vault will be doubled, as will the sentries on the walls and towers. Go."

The men took the orders and swarmed to execute them while Odin turned to his war council. There was a lot to be discussed.

 

 


End file.
